


all of the dust

by Ihniwid



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (vague hand motions), Angst, Angst and Fluff, F/F, I know the ship is gone just, Mutual Support and Healing, Season 6 Spoilers, bear with me here, references to minor character death (canon)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 11:26:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14953790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ihniwid/pseuds/Ihniwid
Summary: Anger: self-directed and otherwise. Guilt. And, she's ashamed to admit- heartbreak.  Allura has some emotions to work out. So, she works out.Romelle wanders around the castle, stunned by an Altea that has not existed in legend, and wondering about her place in it. So, she wanders. And wonders.Finding each other in the training hall, the two find in each other a kind of solace that only the other could bring.(V:LD Season 6 spoilers. Teen for swearing/brief discussions of character death.)





	all of the dust

_Thud_.

The staccato rhythm of her fists against the punching bag was the only thing keeping her from ripping it to pieces. Anger- hot, choking rage pressed into Allura's lungs, filling with it and yet still too empty. 

_Thud. Thud._

_**Thud. Th-** _

She broke form midway into the swing, punching forward with a flurry of unrestrained instinct and anger, a storm letting loose. Allura heaved, air coming in too small of a supply each time. By the time the red had cleared from her vision, she was left only with the empty echoes of the training room in front of her. The bag slumped against the opposite wall, sporting a sizable tear in the shape of a clawed fist.

Allura felt a distinct sinking in her chest that only increased as she looked down. Confirmed, by two clawed- and more alarmingly, purple- hands, too large to be Altean. 

"No, no- _AGH!_ "

Her guttural scream was matched only by one of surprise and fear from the other end of the room, followed by a flash of blonde hair vanishing back around the corner.

She struggled to control her breathing, still caught up in anger and caught off guard by the late-night visitor. Hands, on second glance, shifted back.

"Hello? Who's here?"

The only response was her own echo, until someone stepped cautiously around the entrance to the training floor. And a downed punching bag.

"Uh, hi?" The visitor gave a small wave.

"Romelle?" _Great job, Allura, frighten the guest-_ "What are you doing down here so late?"

The Altean in question raised an eyebrow. 

"I could ask you the same question, really."

There was a beat of silence between the two, broken only by Allura's still-labored breathing and the distant buzz of Quintessence-powered fluorescent lighting. She swallowed, turned back around.

"Training."

Romelle, ever the skeptic, held another question in her eyes. Allura carefully looked away, and thanked her lucky stars that she didn't press the matter.

Making her way to the victim- er, training equipment- that was currently leaking stuffing into the floor like torn entrails, Allura called out over her shoulder. Still not looking Romelle in the eyes- not quite.

"Are you having trouble sleeping? Are the bedroom arrangements uncomfortable? Because I can-"

Romelle cut her off with an amused huff. "It's fine- more than fine, actually," she looked around the room, taking in observation deck far above them. "This whole place is amazing."

Hefting the bag up onto a shoulder, Allura felt a small smile rising as well, in spite of her internal turmoil. The Castle would always be a point of pride.

"Has Coran given you the grand tour?"

A laugh. "Oh! No, not yet. It's all been so busy with-" she caught herself with a dark look to the floor- "well, everything."

Everything was an understatement. Everything _he- everything I..._

And just like that, the tense atmosphere returned, as quickly as if the Princess had started shouting at innocent training gear again. Silence fell on them once more: festering anger and guilt for one; contemplative sadness and worry for another. Both equally unreachable.

Romelle tucked an errant strand into her braids. She took in a breath as Allura propped the destroyed punching bag against a wall panel, far less dented and far less in the way of wandering visitors. 

"I can't help but marvel at this place. It's- well, it's _here_."

Allura looked up, gave her a quizzical expression. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's- it's the Castle of the Lions. That's the stuff you hear about from your ancestors, from stories, legends and- well, quite frankly, myths. I didn't think this place was real." She paused, contemplative. "None of us did."

"So, he let that story stay in his 'world without Voltron'?" Allura couldn't- no one could call that a laugh. It was too dry, too angry. Harsh, with the same feel of Blue's ice beam, if it burned.

Romelle's eyes turned equal parts wistful and sour. "He didn't exactly encourage it, but. It's hard to enforce a rule that nobody knows exists." Something that, too, was not a chuckle. Not quite. "To respect a murderer's ego, when he hides it as a savior."

She felt regret for the subject change almost immediately, rushing to the surface with the same speed as her anger had done.

"I'm sorry, Romelle, I shouldn't have-"

"No, it's-"

They cut each other off. 

Breathed, air entangled in the thicket of words between them and their lungs.

Romelle broke through first. "You're fine."

Allura replied in kind. "Still."

A beat passed, then another. It was a long moment, long enough that it began to feel uncomfortable. She nearly turned away, when- 

"Spar with me."

Allura was taken aback. "What?"

"Look, neither of us are going back to bed." She breathed in, breathed out. "And I've been trying to train myself, but there's not much you can learn surrounded by generations of peaceful Alteans. Nobody could even fly a transport ship, until Keith and Krolia came."

She held a single hand outstretched. Still shy, still questioning, but- reaching out. "Teach me?"

Allura's breath caught in her throat again. Words, tangled like thorns- still hurting.

So she simply joined hands, nodded in a simple, sure motion. Let Romelle pull her to the room's center circle.

Breathe in, breathe out. Stance.

Begin.

\---

"How-" 

_Thud._

"Could he-"

Breathe.

"LIE-"

_Thud, THUD._

"So _quiznacking WELL?_!"

Romelle dodged her messy roundhouse kick, ponytails flying as she ducked. She was fast, and both of them were breathing hard. In a real fight, Allura could have easily ended this, but not tonight.

Tonight was not graceful; tonight was raw emotion. An open wound in the airless void of space, yet burning regardless. Tonight, Allura was not the Blue Paladin, not Alfor’s daughter, and _definitely_ not a Princess. Tonight, she was a solar flare, a storm, lashing out without direction or purpose. Simply destruction.

But where Allura was an explosion, Romelle was the edge of collapse. She dodged, weaved, but more accurately _fell_ away from each formless strike without much offense of her own. And where it was, it was fearful. Not of the storm, of the flare, no- but with the feeling of holding something back, a tightness in her chest that told her she did not belong- and never would.

Yet, even stuck as she was in the deepest part of her brooding, she felt a flicker of annoyance at Allura’s words. At her repeated apologies, even those she didn't say aloud. 

“You tell me.” An untrained punch, but a punch nonetheless. “He’s fooled our colony for centuries.”

Allura hesitated with the next blow. “I'm sor-”

“Still- _is!_ ” 

Romelle took advantage of Allura’s distraction and her own rising temper to sweep her legs out from under her. In a flurry of movement, Allura latched onto her shoulder on the way down, and they both hit the training room floor with a dull _thud._

There was a beat of silence, with nothing but their aching chests and thundering hearts to fill it. Allura felt her anger crumbling to guilt, stabbing through her stomach.

“I-”

“Stop.” Romelle beat her to it. “Stop apologizing.”

“But-”

“No! Seriously!” She sat up on her elbows, twisting around to give Allura an expression as stormy as her own mood earlier on.

“So he tricked you. Congratulations, but you aren't alone in that. Yes, you made mistakes, but they weren't your fault. They were- he-” she broke off. The tightness of her face revealed how unprepared she'd been for the flood of emotion suddenly overpowering her words.

Allura nearly reached a hand to her shoulder, but flinched back before getting anywhere close. Sitting up instead, shrinking in on herself once more. Their situations were reversed- now she collapsed, whilst the other raged. Foils to each other’s tempests. 

Romelle looked up, eyes almost as blazing as the day she had confronted them all with the truth of who they thought a friend.

More than that, for some.

“He lied to our colony since the very beginning. He lied about the new colony, where they were going, my...my brother, what h-happened to him,” her voice, once lilting and steady, cracked. She looked up, found Allura’s eyes.

“I tried to tell someone, you know? My friend? But they thought I was just… crazy, or something, missing my brother too much. Imagining the worst-case scenario. Laughed it off, like I hadn't watched him die in my arms. Like it was a bad dream. I wish it had been. Quiznak, I wish it had.”

Romelle teared up despite herself, resisting the urge to crumble. Instead, she turned to Allura, brows knit tight. 

“Don't you dare apologize. It's not your fault he tricked you. It's not your fault he lied. He did this; never forget that. Not you. Never you.”

A single beat passed, of trying to hold herself together. Which was like trying to stop sand from flowing down a river- it didn't work.

“Oh, look at me.” She laughed, almost desperately, tears still escaping. “I came in here to comfort _you_ , not spill my own issues.”

Allura closed the distance between them. She'd always favored a hug in times of crisis, and this seemed an appropriate time. Romelle hesitated for a second, before wrapping her arms around in return, both relaxing into each other's touch, each other's comfort.

But though she was the first to reach out, she was also the first to pull away. And did so, balancing on the edge of tears herself. Romelle looked at her wide eyes, filled with an openly terrified mixture of guilt and regret, and dreaded what would come next.

“I loved him.”

_Oh._

“Oh, _Allura-_ ”

And brought her back into the embrace, clasped more tightly than before. 

The dam broke, Allura finally letting her exhaustion and emotions get the best of her, sobbing into her shoulder. 

“I trusted him, Romelle, I- I _kissed him_. I-”

“Ssh, hey, hey. It's okay. It's okay. He's gone. He's gone. It's okay.”

She rubbed circles into her back, trying to comfort her in what small ways she could. This fire that was kindling in her chest- it was not quite like the searing embers of her brother’s death, of her family's fate, an old and everlasting pain. No, this was a new blaze of cold fury, one that would rise to her eyes as she burned each of Lotor’s ships to dust, one by one. With her bare hands, if need be.

This felt like renewal, like fuel. Burning twice as bright as before, raging. 

Romelle thought someone that bright, that kind, did not deserve to hurt that much. She didn't think anyone did, except the one that caused it. This flame would tear his memory to shreds, if that was what it took to ease the pain from Allura’s eyes. 

They sat like that for who knew how long, leaning into each other's orbit like twin stars. Allura’s tears gradually abated with a heavy sense of release, relief, while Romelle’s breathing evened out, and her thoughts with it. The war could wait one night. It could wait, for this small moment of peace. They simply leaned against one another, a solitary support in the vast nothingness around them. Solace.

Allura murmured past a blonde twist of hair. “There was something Lance called him that I liked. An Earthling insult, I think.”

“Oh?”

“Lotor’s a… punk-ass bitch.”

A pause. “What is that?”

“I'm not quite sure, but all the paladins seemed to agree with the sentiment.”

“Alright. Lotor’s a bunk-ass pitch.” 

“That's right.” Her laugh was real this time, if a bit on the hysterical side. “An absolute quiznak.”

“Yeah.”

It was quiet once more, but a different kind. This one was calmer, more soothing. It was the kind of quiet found best when reading into the early hours, when watching the sun rise on an alien planet. In the stillness after the rain.

Romelle ventured into the silence, careful. Gentle.

“I don't have anyone left at the colony, not really. I don't belong there. I- I don't think I have for a long time.” A breath. “But I don't know if I can fit here, either.”

Allura gathered herself from the stillness, loosening her grip to look the other Altean- _and how relieved she felt to be able to say that phrase after so many centuries_ \- in the eyes that so closely resembled her own. Coran’s. Her father’s; mother’s. Her world’s, the one she had feared lost with everything else.

She noticed they were a deep violet.

“Stay. As long as you need.” She hesitated. “Or we have- we have a base on Olkarion, as well, if you need to get away- but,” _breathe in, breathe out._

“Coran and I would be more than happy to have you.”

Romelle met her eyes. And although it was easy to see the initial apprehension, the fear of not belonging that filled them at first, all of it was overtaken by warmth. This was not the fire of anger, not yet- that was for war. This feeling was… it was safety. Home. And maybe, just maybe, a place to belong.

Allura’s eyes were nearly the same blue as her Marks, and her Marks the same pink of her eyes.

She offered a smile. A real, shining smile; the brightest she's felt in a long, long while. 

“I'd like that.”

And if they were found there in the morning, sleeping soundly on the ground with more than a few sore muscles- getting up just didn't seem that important. What was important was being there, being _alive_ , and finally feeling like it. With a glimmer of distant stars from the window, and the only sound that of their own breath, their own hearts. 

Breathe in, breathe out.

_It's okay._

**Author's Note:**

> can be read as platonic or romantic, written as pre-relationship. This is the mutually supportive and healing gf relationship that dreams are made of so I gotta pay tribute esp since there are nO FiCs YeT wTf,,, guess I'll die. ride or die romura rarepair.
> 
> also- realized after finishing that To Build a Home (by Cinematic Orchestra) really fits this perfectly, so title is from that. Give it a listen for Feelings™️
> 
> message me @teethkeith on tungle, drop a comment/kudos if you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!!!


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